


Platonic

by spacestationwedding



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Bathing/Washing, Best Friends, Bisexual Bucky Barnes, Bisexual Steve Rogers, Blow Jobs, Caretaking, Childhood Friends, Drunkenness, Embarrassment, F/M, Fluff, Friendship/Love, Hair Kink, Hand Feeding, Heterosexual Sex, Inappropriate Erections, Living Together, M/M, Masturbation, Masturbation Interruptus, Minor Injuries, Mutual Pining, OR IS IT, Period-Typical Homophobia, Platonic Cuddling, Platonic Kissing, Pre-Captain America: The First Avenger, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Sexual Fantasy, Sharing a Bed, Slurs, Touchy-Feely, Vomiting, finger combing, how do you tag "masturbating while someone is sleeping next to them", light exhibitionism, platonic fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-02
Updated: 2019-04-09
Packaged: 2019-06-20 22:33:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 5,979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15543591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spacestationwedding/pseuds/spacestationwedding
Summary: Their friendship had a filter placed over it, censoring out anything that might attract the wrong kind of attention.But when they were alone, they could get away with more. Lingering touches and stolen glances. Just friendly stuff, nothing more. They’d swear it up and down, even to each other.





	1. Prologue

It was different when they were kids. With their grubby hands and scraped-up knees, nobody dared to even suggest the idea of such depravity among young boys. Still, they were inseparable, and it wasn’t the kind of thing they could just grow out of. 

Hell, Steve had been there for Bucky’s first kiss. Standing a few feet away on the schoolyard, giving him a big cheesy grin and a thumbs up over Daisy Addington’s shoulder.

As time passed, the world grew harsher at the idea of boys spending such intimate times together. It wasn’t until Bucky sprouted sparse, dark hair on his chest that his mother kindly suggested that they take separate baths one night Steve slept over. Behind her back, Steve had whined, not even wanting to be alone for long enough to wash up. He didn’t understand why she’d said that, not yet. 

They still slept mere inches apart, of course. Steve on the bed, Bucky on the couch cushions. Telling stories and laughing into the late hours of the night, quieting down when Mrs. Barnes rapped sharply on the door and reprimanded them, only to work back up into excited chatter. It never ended, that cycle. Never would Bucky not be ecstatic to be in the company of Steve Rogers. 

When they walked down the street, Bucky always had an arm slung happily over Steve’s shoulders for as long as he’d allow before complaining about the extra weight. “Ya the reason I got this crooked spine, Barnes,” he’d drawl, all Brooklyn, and push Bucky away with a laugh. But one time, after throwing his arm where he thought it belonged and laughing into Steve’s hair at some joke, an old man hissed out at the pair. 

“Fags!”

From then on, it was like something within them switched into gear. This pause right before an action or a jibe. Bucky compared it to something his father had once told him. “Think before you speak.” He was thinking, all right. Contemplating, checking, wondering.  _ Is what I’m about to say appropriate? Should I touch Steve like that? Will someone think this is queer? _

Their friendship had a filter placed over it, censoring out anything that might attract the wrong kind of attention.

But when they were alone, they could get away with more. Lingering touches and stolen glances. Just friendly stuff, nothing more. They’d swear it up and down, even to each other. 

 


	2. Chapter 2

Steve readied up the bath basin, a clunky tin thing that got too hot in summer and too frigid in winter. Luckily, they were still in the months of spring. The world outside was growing greener and sunnier, despite the grey and beige of the city streets. Glancing out the open window, he grew wistful at the beam of sunshine streaming in through the wind-blown curtains. Without thinking twice, he dragged the basin over to the floor by the window and set about getting the water. Boiling the water tediously, pot by pot, then carrying it over. Normally, he’d get Bucky to do it for him- out of laziness, _not_ because he couldn’t- but Bucky was visiting his family. After the move, he’d gotten little bouts of homesickness. Steve would too if he’d left his childhood apartment with his ma behind.

Can you get homesick for a person?

He pondered that for a while filling the tub, only five pots of water. The last pot was cold, straight from the tap, to balance it out. It couldn’t be too hot. He grabbed the bar of soap and placed it on the windowsill for later. Stripping quickly, he checked to make sure no one in the complex across the street was going to get an eyeful while he removed his clothes. And finally, he clambered in and sank into the warmth of the bath.

It was wonderful.

The sun hit his face just right, enough for him to want to close his eyes but not enough to force him to. Brightening his naked skin and reminding him of just how pale he was, but oh well. He dipped his hands into the glistening water and ran them up and down his arms, watching as the light breeze dried his skin right before his eyes. Sun warm and lazy, he propped his arms up on the towel-covered edge of the basin and laid his head back. If he fell asleep, it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world. He didn’t have anywhere else to be.

In fact, he was right on the precipice of taking a short nap when he fuzzily heard a key turning in the lock of the front door. A little smile was already turning up the corners of his mouth. Bucky was home.

“Hey, Stevie, brought ya some leftov-” He closed the door and found Steve, still naked as the day he was born and wet and shining from the sun. “What are ya doin’?”

Steve rolled his eyes. “Wassit look like ‘m doin’, ya mook?”

With a smile and only a light case of wandering eyes, Bucky shucked off his shoes and jacket to join him. He pulled up one of the dining room chairs and pulled out a piece of the banana bread his ma had packed in a paper bag.

“Hungry?” He asked and started breaking the piece into small bites. “Guess ya didn’t make yaself any dinner, huh?”

Still feeling sleepy, Steve shook his head and accepted the first bite of bread from Bucky’s fingers. His friend smiled down at him fondly, ignoring his nakedness and keeping his eyes out the window when he wasn’t feeding Steve the dessert.

Eventually, Steve became alert enough to realize what was happening and he snatched the bread from Bucky to eat it himself. It made him laugh, as he was well used to Steve’s stubborn independence by now. With a friendly pat on the shoulder, Bucky stood. He didn’t immediately pull away, though, his eyes trained on Steve’s. The smile didn’t quite meet his eyes, the longer his hand rest on Steve’s naked shoulder. Seconds passed before he shook his head a little and went into the bedroom to get changed.

 


	3. Chapter 3

There weren’t many girls out that night. Maybe because it was a Monday night, or maybe because all the good ones were taken already. Hell if Bucky knew, but he didn’t mind all that much. There were plenty of interesting fellas out, with no jobs to worry about thanks to the economy and who were all willing to drink away their problems with good conversation mixed in. Bucky flitted from group to group, chatting and throwing back drinks and laughing and feeling good. It was good, he just wished he’d brought his partner in crime along for it. Steve would’ve actually had fun, without all the pressure of chatting up a girl.

Hours passed while Bucky socialized and drank well past his limit. It was midnight when he stumbled home, good and drunk and laughing to himself. The apartment was dark, he noticed. Looking at his watch, he giggled again. He hadn’t meant to stay out so late. Steve would have probably worried-

“Stevie!” He drawled out at his brain’s mention of Steve, too loudly and long. Shushing himself, he meticulously untied his shoes and pulled them off. A light flicked on lowly from the bedroom, so he waited until his eyes adjusted to even think about moving.

A familiar slim frame appeared, wrapped in the bedsheet. Steve walked up to him and blinked away the remnants of sleep. With a happy smile, Bucky cupped his hands around Steve’s confused face.

“Stevie, ya came! I didn’t know if ya were here or not, but ya came when I called!”

“Bucky, shut up. It’s midnight, ya woke me up ‘nd ya probably gonna piss off half the building, ya keep yammerin’ like that.”

“I woke ya up?” Horror gripped Bucky’s body. The smile melted off his face. “Oh no, that was rude- oh no, oh no-”

“‘S fine,” Steve snorted at him. “C’mon, let’s get you to-”

“No, Steve, you don’t get it-  _ oh, no _ .” He tugged on Steve’s arm insistently. “Oh, no.”

“What are you-” Bucky clapped a hand over his mouth and tried to hold back his vomit. “Oh. C’mon, let’s go to the toilet.”

Steve led him down to the communal toilets on their floor, thankfully empty given the late hour. Immediately, Bucky dropped to his knees and put his face over the bowl. For a couple of minutes, his stomach emptied itself of its contents in painful heaves. Steve was there the whole time, consoling him and murmuring reassurances. 

The sickness eventually subsided, leaving Bucky with a sour taste in his mouth and sweat lining his brow. He groaned and pulled away, dropping fully to the bathroom floor. Steve sat too, right next to him. Gentle fingertips wrapped in the bedsheet ran over his face, wiping away his perspiration. 

“Hurts,” he muttered and turned to clutch at his stomach. With a huff, Steve pulled his head up into his lap- and oh. That was nice. Intimate. Fuzzily, he wondered why they never did that more often. He adjusted his shoulder on Steve’s thigh to get comfortable and placed his free hand on his knee. 

Slowly, Steve’s fingers threaded into his hair, no longer stiff from pomade. Instinctively, he sighed and arched into the touch. There was a pause where Steve froze in place, so Bucky nudged more insistently with his head. Steve got the memo and began properly combing Bucky’s hair back from his face. 

It felt so satisfying, those fingers running along his scalp. No one had ever done something so simple for him before, at least not that he could remember. He thought that maybe he’d like to fall asleep like this, Steve playing with his hair and Bucky curled up around him. Not on the bathroom floor of course, but maybe in their bed. 

He smiled and hummed contentedly, rubbing his cheek into Steve’s thigh. The man laughed quietly above him.

“You’re like a cat, Buck,” he observed softly. Bucky laughed harder than he probably should have at that. 

“Don’ stop,” he slurred. It felt too good to stop any time soon. His spine tingled with electric pleasure. Steve massaged his scalp and he swore that he’d floated away on a cloud. Cloud nine, perhaps. It felt like sunshine was beaming down on him from all sides- maybe that was the alcohol talking. 

His heart started beating faster, body reacting without his permission. He could feel Steve’s eyes on him, but didn’t mind. Just floated there, feeling so damn good and mindless. Steve’s hand slowed in his hair, and then stopped.

“Buck?” 

He hummed questioningly in response, annoyed at the halt. 

“Maybe we oughta go to bed.”

Bucky groaned and shook his head, clinging tighter to Steve’s leg. The hand pulled away tentatively, but then came back. Still, insecurity nudged its way right through Bucky’s contentment. He came back down to reality and tensed up.

“Yeah...maybe you’re right.” He sat up with difficulty, slow and careful. Steve sprang up and pulled the sheet around himself tighter. A smile graced his lips, tight.

When Bucky shuffled his hips to start standing up, he realized with outstanding horror...he was hard. Jesus, he’d popped a damn boner from Steve’s touch. Suddenly a lot soberer, he cringed and dropped his arm casually over his hip to hide it. His face flushed with embarrassed heat. Slowly, he raised his eyes to meet Steve’s.

His friend was holding out a hand, offering to help him up. There was no way to know for sure if Steve could see- oh god, was that why he had suggested going to bed? Because he’d seen how much Bucky enjoyed it? Jesus. He flushed darker. 

The hand in front of his face flapped insistently. Still embarrassed, he grabbed it and let Steve pull him up. Well, more realistically, he let Steve hold his hand while he pushed himself up. As soon as he was standing somewhat steadily on his feet, he turned away and dropped his arm back down to cover the tent in his pants.

Even as he was standing there, no longer being stimulated, his cock was achingly hard. He tried to will it down, thinking of anything except for how good Steve’s touch had felt. Thank god, it started softening slowly.

“C’mon. You need some sleep.” Steve put a stabilizing hand on his back and pushed a little, working him towards the door. 

He forced a smile onto his face and nodded. “Thanks, Stevie.” 

If he asked, Bucky would just laugh and say it was the alcohol. Because it was...just the alcohol. Nothing to be concerned about. 

Nothing at all.


	4. Chapter 4

Steve glared at the sleeping form of Bucky in front of him. The man was curled up on his side, mirroring Steve’s position. They’d fallen asleep while talking, just like when they were kids. Or at least, Bucky had fallen asleep. Steve was stuck staring at his best friend while his cock decided to fill with arousal. 

It was so stupid. He felt like a damn teenager, unable to control himself. Even as he tried to think of gross, unattractive things, his cock refused to listen. There was no way he could relieve himself, not with Bucky _ right there.  _ But he was trapped in, he couldn’t get out without waking Bucky up and alerting him of his predicament. Surely he would understand….

Huffing angrily, he turned onto his left side, so that at least he would be looking at the wall and not at his sleeping friend. His right hand shoved his pajama bottoms down his hips. A soft slap sounded as his cock bounced up onto his stomach. He paused, listening for any sign that Bucky had heard. There was a light sleepy sigh, but nothing more.

Taking himself in hand, he stroked slowly up and down his length. Gripping hard enough to pull his foreskin with each stroke, but not much more. He sighed in relief, somehow relaxing into the familiarity of it. 

Listening intently to the slow, deep breaths and occasional sleepy sounds Bucky let out, he kept going. There was one particular little groan of frustration at whatever predicament Bucky was facing in his dreams that most definitely did not spur Steve on. He quickened his pace, using the little drops of precome that had gathered at his tip to ease the glide. His hand felt too much like the only thing he’d ever had on his dick, so he imagined something else. A mouth. Yes, those were lips sliding down his length in a tight ring. Red and pouty and wet. Shakily, he brought his palm up to his mouth and licked from his thumb to the tip of his index finger, to slip further into the illusion. Spit slick, his hand wrapped back around his cock. 

Quickly, he fell into his imagination with ease.  _ That red mouth parted its sinful lips. A tongue flicked out to lap at the head reverently. The owner of the mouth moaned at the taste, wanting more already.  _

Steve wasn’t sure whose lips he was imagining, but it didn’t really matter. They were too gorgeous not to think about.

_ The mouth lowered, taking in his tip. Skillfully, teasingly, the tongue laved circles around the most sensitive parts. Like the owner knew just how to take him apart. Lower, then up again. Bobbing up and down, faster and faster. Chasing his orgasm, trying to get a taste of his come. Sucking hard, making his cock twitch inside that mouth. _

_ He thought that maybe the owner might wink up at him at that. _

Lost in the fantasy, he quickly jacked at his cock and felt the curling of an orgasm build low in his gut. Closer and closer, he was right on the edge. He was so far removed from reality, it should have been easy to get all the way there. 

Until he was reminded of his best friend at his six o’clock.

Steve froze in place as Bucky rolled closer to him, pressing his face into his shoulder. Damn him, there was no way he could keep going with Bucky touching him. He’d feel the movement immediately, and wake up, and ask what the  _ fuck  _ Steve was doing. 

Groaning out another sleep-soft noise, Bucky wriggled his arm around Steve’s waist to rest at his stomach. Wincing, he quickly snapped the waistband of his pajamas back over his still aching cock before his friend accidentally grabbed it. There was the crack of elastic against his skin, loud enough it might wake even Bucky up.

Sure enough, the man pulled Steve in even closer and nosed at his neck. “Steve?”

It came out barely even coherent, a low, drawling groan. 

“Yeah? Somethin’ wrong?” He tried to push the huskiness of arousal out of his voice. Hopefully, it just came off as tired. 

There was a pause while Bucky thought about his response. “Nothin’. Go back t’ sleep.”

Well, that was rich coming from him. 

“Okay, pal. You too.”

That night, his dreams were filled with glimpses and wonderings of that mysterious mouth.

 


	5. Chapter 5

Bucky rushed them back to the apartment, holding Steve close. Not too close, though. They’d already been accused of being too friendly for comfort with each other. 

He sighed and unlocked their front door with a heaviness settling over him. It’d been a good day up until then. He’d gotten a raise, the sweltering heat of summer was finally relenting, and even Steve seemed like he was in a happy mood. 

But someone on the street had taken the joy of their company the wrong way. Thrown out a slur. Bucky had pulled on Steve’s arm, whining that it wasn’t worth it. But Steve couldn’t ever leave it alone, even when it got the shit beat out of him. The guy had gotten in a few good punches and kicks before Bucky had yanked him off and finished the fight himself. 

Steve walked into the apartment in the same stony silence that he’d maintained the whole walk home. He was pissed, Bucky could tell. It’d be better to let him stew in his anger and come out when he was ready, but he had injuries that needed taking care of.

Shucking off his shoes, Bucky went straight to the cabinet in the bedroom to grab the usual supplies. Creams, balms, bandages, aspirin. Then to the icebox, where he pulled out a bottle of cola to press against his own swelling eye. The bastard had gotten him once, but it was enough to raise a bruise over his eyelid. 

Steve had set up camp on the sofa already. He’d closed his eyes and sprawled out, suspenders pulled over his arms. Closed off. 

He tossed down the supplies onto the couch next to him. Steve cracked an eye open. 

“Figure you’d wanna do it yourself.” He turned to sit at the kitchen table and get some relief on his eye.

Silence stretched on. He subtly watched out of the corner of his eye as Steve pulled out the ointment and bandages he’d need. But he was just staring at them, in his hands. 

“Buck,” he began quietly. “‘F ya wanna help me...I guess ya could.”

There was a laugh threatening to escape him. All these years of Steve coming home from a fight, hissing him away to lick his wounds alone like an angry cat, and suddenly he wanted Bucky to help? He suppressed a smile, and probably could have done a better job at it. 

“Sure thing. Wanna hand me the arnica, for that bruise?”

Quietly, the two sat at the table and worked through the injuries. Bruises on Steve’s ribs, a cut on his jaw, above his eye, the scrape on his shoulder where he’d fallen onto the pavement. Bucky methodically wiped it clean with alcohol, making Steve wince, then slathered on ointment, and then wrapped each one tight with a bandage. Each of them was done to his satisfaction, and if one wasn’t wrapped well enough or didn’t have enough ointment, he’d take it off and start again. Steve rolled his eyes at that.

“All done,” he murmured and started packing away the supplies. One of Steve’s bandaged hands reached out to grab his own. It made him startle in surprise.

He nodded to Bucky’s right hand. “What about you?”

The two punches he’d thrown had earned him small scrapes on his knuckles, already scabbed over with blood. He shrugged.

“‘S fine. Don’t need bandages for those.”

Steve frowned at him, then took Bucky’s hand in his own. Inspected it, stroking his thumb over the small marks. Bucky held his breath, unsure of what was happening but not disliking it. The contact was so gentle, like he was fragile and Steve didn’t want to hurt him. 

Then, Steve smiled at him. Got a little gleam in his eye and determination set onto his face. He lifted Bucky’s hand up to his mouth and…

Kissed it. 

Tiny, little press of his lips against the rough, bloody knuckles. A barely there, swift, blink and you’ll miss it kind of kiss. But Bucky was completely frozen. He didn’t dare blink. 

A look of dumb shock probably crossed his face. Under his stare, Steve shifted uneasily. That was enough to make him react, to pull a smile onto his face. With that, Steve seemed to gain confidence and sat up straighter.

“Close your eyes,” he whispered. Bucky narrowed his eyes at him, giving him a suspicious look. Steve fixed his face into “just trust me” exasperation. So Bucky complied. 

He could hear and feel Steve lean in, dangerously close to his face. At the realization, his heart pounded furiously in his chest, so loud he could hear it in his ears. Was he going to...Jesus, he’d just gone and kissed his hand. That was excusable, but going for it on his mouth? He didn’t know Steve felt that way, or even swung that way. And yet, for some reason, he himself wasn’t turning away from it.

Bucky parted his lips, eyes still closed, and waited for Steve to kiss him.

What he didn’t expect was soft lips to ghost over his black eye. Right over his eyelashes, the kiss landed several inches higher than he’d anticipated. A tiny smack of lips, too gentle for him to even feel it. And then Steve was pulling away. 

His eyes fluttered open again, and Steve was still smiling at him. 

“Thanks for stickin’ up for me. You’re a great friend.”

_ Friend.  _

He forced out a nod, trying desperately to ignore the disappointment he’d felt at the placement of the kiss.


	6. Chapter 6

The sun had set an hour ago, but Steve couldn’t bring himself to turn a second lamp on. He was sketching by the light of the old lamp set into the wall in entirely the wrong place. Squinting, he was entirely enraptured by the image he was depicting on paper.

It was Bucky. His profile, shaped in shadow more than lines. The clench of his jaw while he stared into the distance. The dark fringe he only let down when he was at home, with no one to impress. The shape of his almond eyes. Even the soft curve of his pouting lips, looking so kissable-

“You’re gonna strain your eyes, Stevie.” 

He jumped and the sketchbook smacked onto the floor when he flung it away. Instinctively, he let out an undignified yelp. 

“Jesus H. Christ, Buck!” Glancing at the smirking man leaning over the chair behind him, he twisted and cuffed him on the ear.

“Ow! What was that for?”

“Sneakin’ up on me, you ass.” He picked up his sketchbook, but kept it closed. There were some things he just didn’t feel like explaining. 

But it seemed it was too late. “Saw what you were drawin’. ‘S that me?”

Steve sighed and clutched the book tighter. “If ya gotta ask who it is, it’s clearly not good enough.”

Bucky laughed. “I know it’s me. Just askin’ cause...that’s what ya do.” He leaned in closer, so his breath tickled Steve’s ear. “Can I see again?”

As easy as those four words, his resolve faltered. Just because it was Bucky asking. Flipping through his sketchbook, back to front, because there were other pictures of Bucky in there that he couldn’t let him see. 

He found the page and held it open for him to get a closer look. Bucky’s hand crept over his shoulder and down onto his chest as he leaned in. Steve’s breath hitched, but he still couldn’t ignore the rich scent of his cologne, the warmth radiating from his skin. 

“Jesus. So talented, Stevie. Swear, the way you draw me…’s like...I dunno.”

Steve knew. He knew he drew Bucky reverently, lovingly. With so much care that the love was inked into the page. Except he didn’t love Bucky. That was just silly. 

“Thanks,” he mumbled and snapped the book shut. “Think ‘m gonna head to bed.”

“Oh, sure.” Bucky edged back for a moment. Steve thought that was it, that he was going to head off too. But then he darted back in, brushing his lips against Steve’s cheek so quickly he thought he might have imagined it. But no, his skin was burning at the point of contact, just like he’d just been kissed. 

He turned around, mouth agape, but Bucky was already walking into their bedroom. 

“Goodnight,” Bucky called and disappeared. 


	7. Chapter 7

The apartment was growing darker with the setting sun. at least the lamp was just a short stretch away, so he could flick it on easily. Bucky sprawled out, his bare feet no doubt cold against Steve’s arm. He couldn’t be bothered to care. His eyes lifted from his flimsy novel to where Steve was drawing on the opposite end of the couch. 

It was impossible not to take in the shape of Steve’s angular body. There was something...intriguing about the way his leg was draped over the arm of the couch, sketchbook balanced over it. Bucky watched as his hand swept across the page, placing lines exactly where he wanted them with careless ease. It was impressive, the way he could sketch so relaxedly, almost mindlessly. 

A cough pulled him from his reverie, making him start. Steve was smirking at him from the corner of his eye. Bucky readjusted, noticing that his paperback had dropped against his chest. 

“You okay?” Steve’s voice was tilted with amusement. 

He nodded, probably suspiciously quickly. 

The sketchbook flopped onto the floor, closed with a pencil slid in the spiral binding. Bucky watched as Steve slid closer to him, wriggling his way in between his chest and the arm holding his novel. He could only open his body and make room for Steve to lay on him. 

Why was his heart pounding in his chest?

“Whatcha readin’?” 

Bucky let him use his chest as a pillow, in turn balancing his novel on Steve’s chest. 

“ _ The Shape of Things to Come _ .” 

“You’ve read that one a million times.”

“So? It’s really good.”

Steve hummed and angled the book so he could read too. For a while, Bucky just stared at the blond head of hair tickling his collarbones. He could smell the clean, bland scent of the dime store soap he insisted on buying instead of the fancier stuff. Bucky breathed in that scent, completely forgetting the book. 

It wasn’t until Steve flicked him on the hand that he remembered to turn the page. 

There was something enticing about Steve’s weight on top of him; light enough that he could barely feel it, but still enough that he couldn’t forget it. He wasn’t sure what they were doing- were they cuddling? Just sitting together? Was this something normal? Bucky contemplated it, trying to figure it out. Steve flicked his hand again. He turned the page. 

This scenario wasn’t exactly unfamiliar to Bucky. He’d lain like this with girls before, in various states of undress. But they were either expecting him to get fresh with them or lazing around afterward- and that certainly wasn’t what this was. Bucky was at a loss. 

Still, things were so confusing with Steve anyways these days. He ran through all of the incidents that left him questioning afterward in his head. After the various experimental kisses they'd shared- friendly, but still strange- there was no way lying like this could be considered platonic. Could it?

Bucky refocused on Steve. It’d been several minutes since he’d received a flick from him. Leaning forward just a touch, he saw Steve’s long eyelashes resting on the delicate skin under his eyes. His breathing was deep- well, as deep as Steve’s breathing could get. He’d fallen asleep. 

Dropping the forgotten novel on top of the sketchbook on the floor, he settled his head on of the flat pillows over the armrest. With his fingers laced in Steve’s hair, he closed his own eyes and drifted off to sleep himself. 


	8. Chapter 8

Christmas was fast approaching. It seemed only yesterday that he was buying Bucky a birthday present with what little money he’d scrounged up from working odd jobs, and now he was getting ready to do it all over again. Not that he was complaining- he wouldn’t do it every year if he didn’t love seeing Bucky’s face light up- but there was always the question of what he should get. Something special, but without breaking the bank so to speak. 

Although maybe he could splurge a little, without letting Bucky know. 

They definitely weren’t doing as bad as they could have been this year. Money was always tight, for as long as Steve was old enough to pay attention. But things were on the upswing, and just in time for Christmas. One gift, just to celebrate that, wouldn’t be so bad. He promised himself he’d be back to pinching pennies after New Years. 

So when he stopped into the Macy’s department store “on the way” back from the grocer’s, he felt decidedly no guilt about dropping four and a half dollars on a thick navy wool coat. He even tried it on in the store, making sure it was far too large for him. The overly cheerful sales assistant wrapped it up prettily and placed it in a discreet brown bag, at his request. 

Once he arrived back at the apartment, he immediately shoved the brown bag under the sofa to wait the remaining week for Christmas. 

Christmas Eve, he left the package on the kitchen table, seeing as there was no tree to speak of in their fourth-floor apartment. Bucky would find it in the morning, once they woke up.

The morning of, Steve woke as he usually did: Bucky’s arms and all of their blankets wrapped tight around him, but still shivering. He groggily twisted and turned to face Bucky, accidentally bumping noses with him. The other was so warm, despite the December chill that had infected their bedroom. It was comfortingly silent in the room, but Steve could still feel his heart pounding irregularly in his chest as he watched Bucky’s eyes flutter open.

They were so close, Steve heard the hitch in his breath as he gained awareness. He offered a small smile, then unthinkingly tipped his face up. This time, his lips caught the tip of Bucky’s nose. In the dim darkness of their bedroom, he couldn’t even bring himself to care about the implications of that action. 

“Morning,” he whispered, voice caught in his throat after hours of disuse. Moving in closer, he snaked his arms around Bucky’s waist and tangled their legs together.

Bucky grinned in response. “Mornin’.” Leaning in until their foreheads touched, his voice dropped even lower. “Merry Christmas, Stevie.”

Suddenly Steve felt incredibly warm. He lowered his lashes coyly. “Merry Christmas, Buck.”

Bucky began disentangling himself from the web of blankets and quilts, then dropped an undeniable kiss right on Steve’s forehead. “C’mon. I’ve got somethin’ for ya.” Without waiting any longer, he bounded right through the bedroom door.

Steve smiled, gently touching the spot on his forehead where Bucky’s lips had just been. Had he been looking at himself from the outside, he might even say that his face lit up from the kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> merry crisis


	9. Chapter 9

There was a girl with her head in his lap. Bucky sat in the driver’s seat of Delilah Richards’ daddy’s parked car with his head tipped against the headrest. The dancing hall had closed down early, well before Delilah’s curfew. He’d been the one to suggest parking somewhere, but she had taken the initiative to duck her head next to the steering wheel as soon as he’d shifted the gear into park. 

They’d gone on several dates over the past few months, earning Mr. Richards’ trust enough to get the car for a night. Everyone thought they were going steady, but Bucky was holding off against getting too attached. She was pretty and all, but he couldn’t get his mind off a certain gorgeous blond.

Even as Delilah tugged his pants over his hips to get better access, he was thinking about Steve. His cock had filled when he realized what she was about to do- he was still a man, after all- but having his best friend in mind wasn’t making it go away. 

Deft fingers pulled his length free and immediately, a hot mouth was slicking him up. She was quick, and he was unprepared. A ragged sound of surprise tore from deep in his throat, followed by a thump when his head hit the back of the seat. It had been a while since he’d been touched by anyone other than himself. 

“Aw, shit,” he breathed as her lips wrapped around his tip fully. She had pretty lips, all plump and pink. But when he pictured those lips, they weren’t a girl’s. They were Steve’s. 

He thought about the almost-kiss Bucky’d assumed was coming several months ago. Ever since then, he’d tried to show Steve similar affection without crossing the line, but it was so difficult. All he wanted was to pull the man closer to himself and taste him, all of him, even just once. 

And it wasn’t because he was queer. Because he wasn’t- how could he be, when he clearly liked the company of girls? It was just Steve, for some reason. Something about that stubborn little shit made Bucky’s heart swell when they were together and hollow when they were apart. 

He needed to distract himself.

But the attempts were seemingly in vain. Even fooling around with a perfectly nice girl was invaded by thoughts of Steve. Bucky just couldn’t help himself. Imagining his best friend’s mouth on his cock was more satisfying, and had him hurtling closer to the edge faster than he’d willingly admit. 

“God- ‘m close,” he murmured lowly in warning. He may be a jerk for wishing he were in the same situation with someone else, but he was still gentlemanly enough to not blow in her mouth if she didn’t want it. Sure enough, she pulled off with a pop and retrieved a handkerchief from her coat. 

Her soft hand kept stroking, and that made his fantasy even easier to fall into. Bucky squeezed his eyes shut and put blond hair and a familiar face in his mind. Lips no longer waxy with lipstick pressed hot against his neck- Steve finally planting a kiss on him- Steve’s hand sliding up and down his slick length, bringing him to orgasm- Steve telling him to come, that he wanted to see it.

Maybe it wasn’t Steve, but that was what brought him tumbling over the edge. It took all of the awareness he had remaining to not moan out the wrong name. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> been a while bc school. i appreciate your patience! i still think about this story a lot lol- many ideas will come to fruition when i'm done with spring semester.

**Author's Note:**

> idk why but i have a thing for steve and bucky secretly being in love with each other and trying to communicate it through touches...like they want so much more but can't give in to it. we'll see how long this gets, and how intense their pining becomes...*wink wink* i'll try to bring it up to its explicit rating soon lol.
> 
> thanks for reading! hope you like it so far!


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